


Slipping Away

by justwanderingneverlost



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, and our queen doesn't go mad, boat baby, cause fuck d&d, picks up in the beginning of epi 5, this is my canon, this is the real jon snow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 17:57:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18945994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/pseuds/justwanderingneverlost
Summary: Jon arrives at Dragonstone after Rhaegal and Missandei's deaths and things go much different.





	Slipping Away

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure I could ever write canon again, but here I am. I just couldn't leave our loves like that, they deserved so much better. That was not my son, nor my queen. This is. I'm not sure how long this will be, maybe two or three chapters... Y'all know how long winded I can get though so I'll leave it open for more. 
> 
> Something you need to know before reading... In my mind the convo Jon had in the godswood with his cousins before leaving Winterfell was much more in depth, and that little shit Bran told them all some things. Important things. Oh, and Arya went south with Jon. For reasons. 
> 
> Big thanks to my bestie Ash for holding my hand this week and looking this over a few times. Love you to the moon and back!

 

_“I don't have love here. I only have fear.”_

_“I love you.”_

\---

No one said a word as he carried her through the throne room. Her soft cries kept them silent. He spared Arya a once over, Davos too, but kept walking, headed for her chambers. He ignored the two figures lurking in the shadows, else he'd kill them where they stood, and they were hers to deal with, not his.

Somewhere along the way Grey Worm joined them, a maid as well. One ahead, one behind. Grey opened her door, and he slipped her through, going straight to her bed and laying her down. The maid busied herself in the next room and he soon heard water pouring into a copper tub. He left her, only long enough to whisper a few requests to Grey.

“I need you to trust me, I’ll explain as soon as I can, but I want them in chains. Varys and Tyrion. Lock them up. No one goes near them or speaks to them. They'll face her once she's ready. When you're done, go to the kitchens. Have them prepare her fresh food.” He grabbed his arm, squeezed. “Do not take your eyes off them, make them taste it all before you bring it back. Understood?”

Grey nodded, jaw clenched, eyes hard, and left the room.

\---

His hands didn't want to work, fingers all thumbs, his fears and worries nearly undoing him, but he got her freed from her dragon pin and her boots as well. Her tears had halted, she only stared now, at nothing he could see, eyes rimmed red and puffy within her ghostly pale face.

She broke his heart, left his chest empty and raw, every breath more painful than the last.

He hated to disturb her, but he sat her up, she needed out of her clothes. “Let's get you cleaned up, you’ll feel better,” he whispered.

She didn't respond. Not then. Not as he undressed her, not even as he carried her to the tub.

"Would you like me to stay?” he asked softly, placing her on her feet, a hand at her side holding her steady as he removed her shift. “Or–”

His heart stalled, lodged itself in his throat, no air getting past. Trembling fingers reached further, his palm molding to the small, yet obvious swell of her stomach. “Dany…. Why didn't you tell me?”

She said nothing, did nothing. Only stared at something he couldn't see, naked and frozen to the floor.

A thousand thoughts flooded his mind as he stood there, just as frozen, his hand held protectively over their babe. _A babe. Gods be good, he had hoped, for her sake more than his own, but still, he never dreamed…_

But as he stepped around to face her, watery eyes finding hers again, what spark of happiness he had found was snatched away. This wasn't his Dany, she was lost somewhere he feared he was helpless to reach. Rage boiled just under his surface. They did this to her, Tyrion, Varys. It took all he had not to go gut them both right then and there.

But no, they would wait, rot in cells for however long it took. She needed him.

He cupped her face tenderly, swallowing down the tears threatening to choke him. “It's all going to be alright. I'm going to take care of us, all of us,” he whispered to her, lips pressed to her forehead.

It was a promise he would die keeping if need be.

With a gentle hand at her back and another holding her wrist, he got her in the tub. It took some time, his fingers fumbling for the most part, but he managed to undo the few braids she had in her hair without creating too many more knots. She sat still and silent through it all. He washed the silver tresses as best he could, even combed her oils through it as he'd seen Missandei do. And still she didn't speak.

Bathing her was harder, facing her, seeing her hollowed eyes, nearly lifeless in her grief. And she’d lost a stone at least in the few short weeks they'd been apart, despite the baby. She was a ghost of herself, and nothing, save the Night King had ever struck more fear in his heart.

_Please gods, don't let me lose her._

He was washing her arm when she grabbed his hand, startling him. Their eyes locked and his lungs refused another breath. They were clear again, focused. Tears of relief blurred his own.

“Get in with me?” she asked, so quiet he wondered if he'd imagined it. He was frozen so long, stunned and unsure, she pulled on him again. “Please.”

He needed no more prodding, standing to do her bidding. He shed his clothes and stepped in, slowly settling himself in front of her.

She didn't speak, just took the rag and soap and began to bathe him as he had done her. He didn't know what hurt worse, her silent pain or the guilt he felt from her tender care. They never should've traveled apart. If he had been on Rhaegal, he might've been able to save him, might've stopped the meeting with that vicious bitch Cersei. Saved Missandei.

His chin was caught in her grasp, his head lifted up, and she held him still, gently cleaning his face, her touch slow and tender. He closed his eyes as she wiped over his brow. “Neither of us should be here,” she murmured.

Eyes focused on the flames dancing in the fire beside them, he searched the recent horrors still so vividly fresh in his mind. Tried to imagine those she'd experienced since they left each other's sides.

He looked at her once more, his chest tight and aching. She was rinsing the rag, eyes on her task. It was her trembling lip trapped between her teeth that gave her away, the double meaning of her words. “No, we shouldn't,” he agreed, his voice low and raspy, “but we are.”

She stilled and he ran his hand up her arm, brushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear. Her eyes flicked to his, turned liquid and large, and he spilled his heart.

“I don't want to be anywhere else. I'll never leave you again, I swear it." Her own eyes fell closed and a tear slipped free. He dropped his forehead to hers, heat pricking behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut. "I'm so sorry, Dany."

“I thought I'd lost you,” she whispered, lacing her fingers with his.

He shook his head, swallowed thickly. “I couldn't let you go, even if I wanted to. And besides, we're supposed to be together, aren't we?” he asked, trying for some levity, anything to help her feel better.

“So the history books say.”

He didn't like the way she'd said that, distant and distraught, not a smile in sight. “What do _you_ say?”

She slipped her hand from his and stroked his cheek, her eyes welling with tears. “That I love you.”

The air rushed from him, her own breath sweeping over his face in quick gasps. He didn't deserve her, but he would do all he could to try. "And I love you," he husked, lips pressed to her temple. There was nothing more he wanted than to gather her up, kiss her, wipe away the last few weeks, make their bodies and hearts one again, but he couldn't rush her. She was too fragile.

“It's all gonna be alright. I promise. I'll take care of us, all three of us," he swore to her.

"Three?"

“Dany, love…” He took her hand in his and placed them both over their child. "You're carrying our babe."

She pulled her hand from his and shook her head. “It doesn't matter, it won't live. It'll be a monster, just like the last one."

His heart simply fell from its place behind his ribs, and dropped with a sickening thud into his pitching stomach. He pulled away, face twisted with horror. “Why would you say such a thing?"

“The witch," she murmured, staring at the rippling water between them. "I'm cursed, Jon. Surely by now you believe it."

He grabbed her arms before he could think better of it. "I don't," he declared, vehemently, "I never did. You're not cursed, we've proved her wrong."

“Jon, please. I can't. I cannot give you a child.” Clenched fists hit his chest. “You know this! Why don't you listen!?” she begged, a sob escaping, her shoulders shaking.

He'd never seen her look so small, so lost, so broken. It tore something within him, his heart splitting into a thousand sharp and piercings shards. He cupped her wet face, begged the gods to help him make her see. “Because I don't know it, and neither do you. It's going to be alright, Dany. I promise."

She only sobbed harder and he knew then what he had to do. He was up and out of the tub a moment later, uncaring of the mess he created, rug soaked, stones wet and slippery. He turned and carefully lifted her out of the tub. Wrapping her in up in a towel he held her close, drying her as best he could. “Grey says you haven't eaten or slept in days," he murmured, "and I'm hungry and tired from the road. Let's get some food in us, then we'll rest, alright?"

_She just needed sleep. He'd get some food in her and make sure she got all the rest she needed. Then she'd come back to him. She had to._

\---

Half an hour later they were tucked in bed together, their stomachs fuller. She hadn't said a word through their meal, but the moment he had gathered her to his side her tears came rushing back. He didn't shush her, instead allowed her to release all the pain she could, his own tears mixing with hers. She cried for what felt like an age, until she fell asleep in his arms, exhausted, breath still hitching.

Sleep evaded him though, only coming in fits and spurts, his mind tortured and tormented. He was at a loss for what to do, fearful of who to trust, wondering if there was anyone at all left on their side. Davos, Grey, maybe Arya. Bran filled him with uncertainty, Sansa even more so, no matter what they'd told him.

His every muscle was trembling with want to jump up and put her on Drogon and fly away, leave it all behind. Regret ate at him, like Ghost gnawing a bone. It was only a few moons ago he'd stood on the beach below them and cautioned her not to be like the rest. He'd take it back if could. They should've seen Tyrion for what he was, should've hit Cersei hard and fast. Ended it quickly.

She'd still have her sons, all three of them. Maybe Jorah, Missandei too. _Gods, what he'd cost her._

He'd never forgive himself.

Sunrise soon came creeping into the room giving him something to stare at besides the pitch black. It did nothing to ease his dark burdens, no amount of light seemed able to banish them.

She stirred against him not long after, warm and supple in his arms, lashes fluttering open, blue gold eyes deep and adoring as they stared back at him, and gods be good, they were clear and bright. "It wasn't a dream, you really did come back to me," she whispered, a trembling hand to his cheek.

"Aye, love, I'm here." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her tighter to his side, running hands over her back, and into her hair.

Her own hands began to explore, soft and searching over his skin, her breath quickening against his chest, a tentative kiss placed to his pounding pulse.

"Love me, Jon. Please," she asked. "I need to feel something besides the pain."

A voice nagged at the back of his mind, telling him he shouldn't. She was his aunt, he, her brother's son. They'd never truly taken the time to discuss it. They probably should. And she was grieving, he'd only be taking advantage. Not to mention all the rest, where they went from here…

_Fuck it all. He loved her, and she loved him._

_Nothing else mattered._

It was so easy to fall into her arms, to let her steal his air for her own, to heat his blood to a fever pitch with just one kiss, starting soft and sweet, quickly turning fiery and fierce. It was as effortless as breathing.

Every doubt burned away beneath at the touch of her hands, the feel of her body beneath his own. It had been too long, more than a moon since he laid nestled between her warm thighs, wrapped in liquid silk. Neither possessed the strength to take things slow, crashing together instead. Two broken souls becoming one–breath harsh, mouths eager, hands greedy and grasping.

She cried out with every thrust, the blessed sound mixing with his groans. They came together again and again, as if they were trying to burn away all the wasted time, to melt back together all the shattered pieces. It was a storm between them, gentle one moment, raging the next. They took with teeth and hands all they could grasp, swallowing moans, limbs wrapping around each other, fighting for dominance, fingers gripping and prying, hips driving a punishing pace until they fell apart as one, each other’s names ripped from their throats.

He rolled to his side as soon as his body was under his control again, taking her with him. The firm swell of the their babe had been hard to ignore beneath him, he didn't want to hurt either of them with his weight.

It still seemed an impossible thing, but his heart ached for it. To watch her grow round and full, then their child strong and healthy, happy and loved. A family of his own. With her.

The dream overwhelming, he was kissing her again, drinking from her sweet mouth until he breathless. "I love you, Dany," he panted, nose brushing hers.

She sighed, an almost happy sound, her fingers running through his hair, nails giving a pleasing scratch at his nape. "I love you too."

He wanted to bask in her love, allow her to do the same in his, but time wasn't on their side. He swallowed thickly, slid the back of his fingers over her cheekbone. “There's things I have to tell you, things you won't want to he–”

“You told them,” she cut across him, all the gentleness in her voice gone.

He shook his head. “They already knew.”

She stared, brow raised, eyes hard. “Sam?”

“No, it was Bran. But Dany, he told us something else."

“Tyrion.”

He pulled back, confused. “You knew?”

“I suspected," she murmured, a fingertip tracing the scar over his heart, her eyes following the slow movement. "Have for sometime, but there was nothing I could prove."

“And Varys?” Her lashes brushed her cheeks, hand falling limp onto the bed. Once more he wanted to gut them, make them suffer for all they'd done to her. “I had Grey lock them up. I'll handle it, you don't have to." He would take great pleasure in it.

She sat up, turning around and dropping her feet to the floor, her back to him. "No. I told them both, warned them what I would do." The mix of anger and defeat in her words had him running a hand up her back in comfort. She latched onto it once he reached her shoulder, grip so tight it was almost painful. "They've taken nearly everything from me, and now they're trying to take you."

Jon was wrapped around her a breath later, cradling her close. "They haven't, they won't. I swear to you. I'm yours, now and always."

She turned herself in his arms, but her focus wavered, eyes remote as she stared up at him. “You will make the best king Westeros has ever known,” she whispered, a sad smile haunting her face as fingertips scraped through his beard.

His heart dropped into his churning stomach just as it had the night before. He took her hand and squeezed. “No. I'll refuse, I told you."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You have a better claim, Jon. They're certain to have spread the news already. The assassins will come soon enough."

"No one will touch you, not while I'm alive," he swore with a snarl–the wolf, dragon, whatever beast that lived within him flaring to life. Her face softened, a sweet smile pulling at her full mouth. She stroked a hand over his cheek. All of it should have comforted him, but it only proved to sink fear's claws deeper into his heart. His grip on her tightened. "Marry me, then it won't matter. You can rule just as you wanted," he tried, growing desperate.

She shook her head, and pulled free from his clinging grasp, turning her back on him again. "I'll never be safe, and if you marry me, neither will you."

Panic began to eat at him, his heartbeat a rushing torrent in his ears. "I don't… Dany, what're you saying?"

"We'll defeat Cersei and you'll take the throne, bring peace to Westeros and honor back to our house," she said, simply, as if that had been the plan all along and he'd been too stupid to see it.

The beast was back to snarling, leaving him prickly, temper short. "Besides the fact I've told you, _I don't want it_ ," he bit out, "where would that leave you?" She didn't respond, but he didn't miss the tremor that ran through her. His blood turned to ice in his veins. "Dany, answer me," he demanded, his guts twisting sickly.

She didn't have to speak, her eyes told him everything he didn't want to know as she looked at him over her shoulder, a tear trailing down her cheeks.

He scrambled to her, nearly falling to the floor in his haste to free himself from the bedding. He took her by the arms and shook her. "No! Do you hear me? No!"

"What other choice is left for me?" she choked.

"That is not a choice!" A pitiful noise left her as she stared at him, scarred and scared, pulling against his hold, and he'd never hated himself more. He loosened his grip only to gathered her against him. "Let's leave.”

Her breath caught, shuddering to a halt. “What?”

He cupped her face gently, begged her with his eyes. “Tell me what you want most, right this minute. What your heart _truly_ wants.”

She shook her head as her hands came up and gripped his wrists, fingertips digging into tendons and bones. “Not to be in a thousand pieces,” she whispered.

He pulled her close, pressing his face to hers, their tears mixing warm and wet between them. “Aye, love, mine too,” he breathed. He laid her head down on his shoulder and stroke a hand over her silky hair. Her cries never faltered, each hitch of breath tearing at his heart. “Do you know what else I want?” he asked softly.

She swallowed hard, a hand sliding into his hair, holding on for dear life. “Tell me,” she whispered.

He kissed the back of her head, sweeping a hand over her back. She was cold. He pulled one of the furs around her shoulders. “We faced death itself, and won. That's twice for me now, you as well. I don't know about you, but I don't want to face it again for a very long time. Not till I'm old and grey.”

“I don't understand…”

He eased away from her, looked into those heartbroken depths and it was all suddenly too much. He left her side and walked to the fire. The cold burning his back, the heat of the flames his front. _Ice and fire._ He dropped his head into his hand, fingers pressed into his eyes, down to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I'm tired, Dany. I'm so fuckin’ tired. Of fightin’, of havin’ this weight around my neck, of always worryin’ about everyone else survivin’. I want to live.” His fists drew hard and heavy as Gendry's hammer, the joints cracking and popping in protest. “Godsdamnit, I want to _live!_ ” he seethed.

He went to her again, dropping to his knees in front her, catching her trembling hands in his grasp. “I want to live with you, somewhere far away from all of this. We saved them, didn't we? We did what we came to do. Let's leave and find some fuckin’ peace. Just you and me and our child. Please, Dany.”

“We didn’t do everything we came to do.”

All the air left him, his forehead falling to rest against her knees. Her fingers scrambled to lace with his, squeezing tight. One swipe of his thumb over her own was all the reassurance he could give her. “Dany, you're not… What would you have me do? Set you aside? Banish you? _Kill you?_ ” The questions came out rough and cracked, dry as ash, but a flame still flickered within him. He added kindling to it; his guilt, his pain, his want for more than he'd ever had. His need to give her all she deserved. All of it caught and soon a storm of fire crackled through his veins. He looked up, met her eyes. “I won't take it,” he told her, teeth clenched, “not from you, and not for a single living soul in Westeros.”

“Jon,” she gasped as if his words were lashes against her tender skin.

He pulled away from her clinging grasp and rose to his feet, finding his pants and pulling them on. “That's my decision, and my decision is final. If that bloody throne is what your heart truly wants, go take it. But you'll do it without me.”

Tension sizzled in the thick silence and a different sort of fire scalded him. “After what I did for you?! After all I lost!”

He spun on her, knew he'd find her standing, the dragon queen fierce and fiery, ready to burn it all. And she was a breathtaking sight, bare and untouchable, the light of dawn kissing her pale skin pink.

But even in the face of such fury he would not, could not, back down. He stuck a finger in her face. “That is _exactly_ why I won’t! If we go down there and we fight her, we'll lose. There'll be no winning, Daenerys. Not for either of us. We'll both lose everything. She will take you from me, or me from you. Or if she doesn't someone else will. You said it yourself. We'll be just like my…” He shook his head, closed his eyes and breathed deep, pulling in air through his nose, pushing out the pain.

The dragon queen was gone when he looked on her again, only the woman he loved–the one he knew loved him–stared back. “Like Rhaegar and my mother,” he said, softer that time. “Like all the rest that came before us.” He stepped closer, took her hand in his, begged her with all he was to see the truth he felt. “We'll die, and all for nothing. I will not go and watch my world be torn apart before my very eyes. I won't do it. I can't.”

"Do you truly believe that?"

"Don't you?" Her eyes dropped to the floor, she chewed her lips, looking as crestfallen as he'd ever seen her. He hated to cause her more pain, to ask her to give up all she'd worked for, but he had to. "I feel it right here, Dany,” he whispered, fingers jabbing into his chest, his heart aching just beneath them. "Choose us, choose our child. Put this shit world behind us and leave with me."


End file.
